A History Revisited
by inspiretheimagination
Summary: We've all wondered what would have happened if Jack had not perished that fateful night. This story follows Jack & Rose, and their stories of survival. Rose believes Jack is dead, but he too is roaming the streets of New York. Will their paths cross? R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! This is my first fanfic that I've have the courage to publish, so be kind! I would so appreciate any reviews or suggestions! Thank you so much for reading, and PLEASE review!**

Chapter 1

Rose awoke slowly, her eyes adjusting to the sunlight that shone so brightly on the last of the survivors in the lifeboats. She sat up and looked about, tugging at the blankets around her, pulling them closer as if they were the only source of warmth that existed. They were approaching a ship: _C A R P A T H I A._ Rose blinked once, registering that this is where she was to spend the rest of her voyage. She then looked around her, at the other tired faces aboard, and at the sea. There was no wind, no waves. Just calm. No evidence of the horror that had taken place only hours before. No sympathy. No remorse. No memory of the man she loved and lost. That's all the sea was: an abyss with no memory. There was just calm. Rose closed her eyes and lay back down, tears rolling down her cheeks, as she waited for her name to be called.

Rose arrived on board the _Carpathia_ within the next hour. Warm hands and calm eyes handled her as she stepped unsurely on to the deck of this new ship. She looked about her and saw a slew of other third class passengers, many wailing in the arms of their loved ones. Even worse were the ones wailing alone. Children held tight to the skirts of their mothers and widows swayed with the sorrow of loss. Grief was all about her. A spectacle such as Rose had never before seen. Her whole life she'd been sheltered and kept from sorrows like these. But tragedy, true horrific tragedy could never be treated so lightly. This was animal instinct she was witnessing. Panic. Panic at the thought of never again seeing those that a person holds so dearly to their hearts. Rose simply walked on.

She found the soup line and took her place, receiving a cup of black coffee and broth when at last it was her turn. She then made her way to the edge of the ship, staking out her own place where she could think and grieve in solitude. She sipped the broth slowly, feeling its contents warm the length of her body as it found its way to her stomach. She realized for the first time just how hungry she was, but the very thought of eating made her turn pale. She felt an overwhelming guilt just breathing – how could she be expected to indulge in the pleasure of nourishment? She looked to her right and saw a woman of 80 or so, hugging herself tightly within the confines of the blankets provided her. Rose smiled weakly and held her bowl of broth out to the woman. The woman looked at Rose, inquiring.

"Please, it's my pleasure."

The woman smiled at Rose in gratitude as she accepted the nourishment and drank it within the next thirty seconds, grateful for the unexpected gesture of kindness.

After two nights and nearly three whole days, the_ Carpathia_ arrived in New York harbor. It was early, still dark. A steady fall of rain came from the sky, as if God himself were weeping for the lost opportunities of those who had perished. Rose stood alone, staring up at the symbol of freedom before her. _Lady Liberty_. As she studied the massive structure she'd read so much about, she couldn't help but think of Jack. _'When the ship docks, I'm getting off with you'_. She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. No. She would get off alone. She would be without Jack. And she would miss him every day henceforth. But she'd made the promise, and the promise she would keep. She would never give up, no matter how hopeless, and she would live her life for Jack, never allowing the memory of him to die.

"_Can I take your name please, love?_"

Rose looked to her right and saw an officer with a clipboard. He was taking the names of survivors. Rose simply looked at him, her eyes somewhere other than reality.

"Dawson. Rose Dawson."

The man wrote down the name, giving birth to the new identity she would keep for the rest of her life. She was his now, and would be always. Her name proved that now. She would never return to the gilded life she had once led. She would never again see her mother or Cal. She would never again have anything handed to her. She was of a different class now, in uncharted waters. She was a survivor, and so she would survive – making her own way and living life as she'd always wanted. Free.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As Rose stepped foot on American soil, she looked about her and wondered if she had truly arrived in the right place. She had expected America to be a shining beacon of hope, but what she saw before her was poverty and despair. The buildings were massive, yes, but they towered over the streets, casting a grey, dull light over everything else. Stray dogs scrounged through the piles of garbage that lined the sidewalks, desperate to nourish their withering bodies. The stench, too, was something familiar, but unexpected. Rose had only experienced the stench of human waste in the privacy of her privy, but not whilst walking along city streets. There were also people. So many people. Rose pushed her way through the crowd, all of them eager to see the survivors of the "unsinkable ship". Rose simply pushed onward, taking everything in everything that she could.

One thing she noticed, other than the massive amount of people, was the massive amount of varying dialects. As she made her way down the street, Rose heard Italian, German, British, Arabic, and alas, Irish. Perhaps Irish was the most prominent dialect she detected, more so even than American. As Rose watched and observed everyone around her, she realized that most people were selling things, bargaining. It was then that she realized just how challenged she was. She had no money. No money to buy a room for the night. No money for food. No money for cigarettes (which, admittedly, she wanted most of all at the moment), and no money for new clothing. As she turned a corner, she saw a woman weaving her way down a less crowded street, followed by a young boy with a violin. The woman was singing, her dialect Irish as well, as she held out an upturned hat for donations.

'_Here's you boys, now take my advice_

_To America I'll have you not be comming_

_There is nothing here but war_

_Where the murdering cannons roar_

_And I wish I was at home in dear old Dublin'_

Rose smiled weakly at the woman as she passed by, routinely dipping her hand in her pockets to 'look for' spare change. Rose had grown up wealthy, and her mother, Ruth, had always placed a great deal of importance on appearance. She could hear her mother's voice as if it were yesterday,

"_Now remember Rose, you must always search your pockets, but never find anything. Our money is never theirs. We have worked for what we have and are honest because of it. Let them do the same."_

Rose realized that her bad habit of feigning concern was not merely a way to shrug off the beggar. She would have given the woman a pretty penny, but just as her hand slipped in to the pocket, she realized again that she had nothing to give. Until she felt something under her fingers. Paper. A stack of paper. Rose's eyes widened as her fingers skitted over the damp money in her pocket. Only one word came to her mind. _Cal_. He'd put the jacket on her whilst on deck waiting for a lifeboat. The bastard had unknowingly provided her with money for survival. But how much? Rose didn't dare investigate while in the presence of so many other greedy eyes. Surely she would be brutally mugged if she were seen pulling out wads of money for all to see.

Quickly, she found the nearest alleyway and turned her back to the street. She looked around her to make sure she was, indeed, alone. Sure that she was, she removed the money from her pocket and, with utter disbelief saw that she now held $3, 000 in her hands. She laughed in disbelief and quickly tucked the money away to its original hiding place. She had money. She had a means of survival! But now, she was on a new mission. One to secure what she wanted most at that very moment: cigarettes. And she would smoke them freely, without anyone there to rebuke her.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As Jack's body sank further and further in to the depths of the sea, there was a kind of shock wave that shook his system to the core. His eyes snapped open and he could feel everything all at once. His nostrils and mouth were being flooded with ice-cold water. He was drowning. Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, he went in to survival mode. There was no fear, only motivation for survival. One after the other his arms pulled against the water above him, catapulting his body toward the surface. He felt no pain or fatigue. His body was working in complete overtime and his adrenaline (what was left of it after the events of the sinking) was kicking in. When he finally reached the surface, he gasped violently, feeling an excruciatingly chilling sting as air once more filled his lungs. He had reached the surface, yes, but he was without a life jacket and could feel the adrenaline draining from his body all too quickly. Knowing that he needed to find something to hang on to, he swam to a bobbing wooden chair, or what was left of it. His whole body shivered as he made his way through the water, his joints feeling as if they were scraping bone. He gripped the chair tightly, gasping and coughing violently as he attempted to catch his breath. Once he succeeded in doing so, the cold reared its ugly head once more. His whole body went in to near convulsions for lack of warmth. His teeth grated against one another. His very eyeballs felt as if they were freezing over. He had no idea how long it had taken him to wake up once he'd began sinking, but he thanked the good lord above that he had. Only one thing was on his mind now. _Rose._

Where was she? Had she fallen off the wooden bed-frame on which she'd been floating? And, in turn, caused him to sink? Was she somewhere near? He looked around him quickly, searching for any signs of movement. There was none. Only bobbing corpses, frozen to the bone. He was certain then that Rose was dead. Sunk, only dead before she'd entered the depths. He figured he'd been very near death when he'd begun sinking, but had been jolted back to life when he'd started choking on the Northern Atlantic herself. Jack opened his mouth to yell for help, hoping that there were boats near enough to hear his cries and come to his rescue. But when he tried to yell, all that came out was a horse yelp. His body was shutting down, and fast. Once more, he looked about him, for anything he could lay his whole body on to stay above the water. Anything was better than being submerged. As he searched as far as his eyes could see, he saw nothing. Nothing. No outlet. No life. No hope.

Suddenly, he saw lights in the distance. He squinted his eyes against their faint glow, unsure of what exactly he was seeing. As moments upon moments passed, and the light drew nearer, he realized that they were flashlights, and the people pointing them were in a lifeboat! He raised one arm while the other kept him locked to the impromptu flotation device. He waved his arm around as quickly as he could, but his body was weak, and he could exert hardly any physical activity. As the boat came closer, he began to hear voices as well. Murmuring at first, but soon enough he was able to make out full, audible sentences.

"_Oi! Over there! I see moving! Sir, there's a live one, just there!"_

"_Well, go get him! But ahead easy, don't hit them with your oars."_

Finally, they were upon Jack, eager hands reaching out to him, pulling him from the water and in to the safety of the boat. At once, blankets were draped over his shivering frame. So many blankets, but they provided hardly any warmth. He was bombarded with questions.

"_Are you alright?"_

"_What class are you?"_

"_What is your name, man?"_

"_Was there anyone with you?"_

That last one struck right through his very being, slicing his heart in two. He only shook his head and croaked,

"N-No, not anymore."

The men looked at one another, and then looked at him, an expression of remorse on all of their faces. They then proceeded to give Jack a lot of information, all of which he attempted to listen to, but in reality heard only half. He picked up things like, "_We'll be on a ship by tomorrow afternoon" _and "_We're the last boat to come back, figured there was another chance at survivors." _ Again, Jack's attention was caught. He looked inquiringly at the man who'd been speaking and repeated,

"Did you say _another_ chance for survivors? You mean, they've already got some?"

"Well, apart from the ones who boarded lifeboats from the ship, yes. A boat came back here maybe half an hour ago. Maybe less. Not sure, really. Word is they picked up some lucky ones, can't say how many though. You though, lad, you may be the luckiest bastard I know. You must've been dead the first time around."

Jack smiled weakly and said,

"Must've..."

But his mind was elsewhere already, racing through all possible scenarios, as his instincts had trained him to do since he was a young boy. There had been word that survivors had already been rescued in the water. Had Rose been one of them? God willing. Jack, not a religious man, found himself speaking to God since the first time since he was a boy. He prayed that Rose was safe and sound and that she had, indeed, been one of the lucky ones plucked from despair. He knew he was going to have to wait until a list of survivors was completed and released, but until that time, he would just have to continue praying.


	4. Chapter 4

**I know this chapter is very wordy, but it's necessary in order to get Jack and Rose to meet, which they do at the end! This chapter is not my best, I admit, but I haven't updated in a few days and wanted to keep the story going. Thanks for the reviews! Please keep sending more, I love to hear feedback!**

Chapter 4

Jack's time on the _Carpathia_ was, well, bearable. It seemed that everywhere he turned, he was reminded of Rose. As well as of the suffering he'd witnessed first-hand and had, indeed, experienced himself. Everyone seemed to be walking through a fog. Even time seemed not to move. Everyone was searching for loved ones, mourning the loss of those who'd perished, and searching, hoping for some kind of absolution, that would never come.

Jack was admitted immediately to the infirmary where he was treated for severe hypothermia. He kept hearing that he should have been dead. It was a miracle even that he didn't suffer from gangrene, seeing as his frostbite was rather perilous in certain areas of his body. He was released soon enough, bandaged where his frostbite was the worst, and given balm to dress his wounds with nightly. He was grateful to everyone who helped him, but something inside him was missing. Yes, there was a chance that Rose was still among the living, but he couldn't be sure until he found her and held her in his arms. God, how he simply wanted to hold her, to breathe in the fragrance of those fiery red locks of hers. But as much as he wanted to sit in solitude and grieve for the possibility of her peril, that same possibility – that of her survival – kept him striving forward.

When he stepped on to the docks at New York harbor, he felt a sense of life about him that had been absent since the foundering of Titanic. Of course, there was still sorrow and misery all about him, but he was home now. In the Land of Opportunity. He had no luggage, nothing of personal value, not even his sketchbook. He was completely on his own, with no means whatsoever to make a living. But he continued on, a smile on his face, knowing that he would find a way. He always did.

As he wondered forward, he beamed with the possibility of life. He knew that his mission was to find Rose, but first he had to secure lodging and get a good meal in him. He had been offered soup several times while aboard the _Carpathia_, but had refused it adamantly. He just couldn't stomach it. But now he felt his stomach begin to hollow and gnaw at itself. That would be first on his list: locating nourishment.

He walked through the streets of his homeland as if he were strolling through a park, but his eyes were peeled for an opportunity to knick some food, or maybe even money. He hated the thought of stealing, but he was a survivor, and sometimes to survive, one must do things that go against their morality. As he turned a corner, he came upon a woman's makeshift food mart. She was selling assorted vegetables and trinkets that, no doubt, her children had spent many hours making so that they might, themselves, have money for food. But Jack saw his chance. A whole loaf of bread was sticking out of a barrel. The last loaf left. And it was his. He tucked a stray strand of his blonde hair behind his ear and licked his lips, readying himself for the moment he was to jump. He stepped a bit closer to the barrel, looking everywhere but at the bread, not wanting to bring attention to his planned intentions. When he was close enough, he grabbed the loaf quickly, but did not bring attention to himself. He slid the bread in to his shirt and continued on his way. That is, until he heard screams of accusations behind him.

"_Stop that man! He's got me food! Stop the bastard, quick!"_

Jack broke in to a run, knowing full and well he could easily outrun the starving, older men that chased him. He ran around one corner, dodging this person and that one, turned another corner and slipped in to an alleyway. He ran to the end, hearing the yells of the men as they neared his hiding place. Quickly, he ducked behind a pile of garbage and listened intently as he heard the men's footsteps rush past. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief, sure that they were gone. He then turned to survey his surroundings. To his astonishment, he saw what appeared to be an abandoned cart at the very base of the alley. In it were various clothes and even a few trinkets. He walked slowly over to the cart to investigate further. As he sifted through its contents he stumbled upon a cap, three jackets, a knapsack, and as luck would have it, a notebook! It was small and of poor quality, but it was something to draw on. He rummaged a bit more and found an unsharpened pencil. But he could fix that. He reached in to his pocket and retrieved his swiss army knife that had miraculously stayed with him throughout the events of the sinking. He nodded, knowing that would do the trick, and was off. He took with him one of the three jackets, the cap, the knapsack, and of course, the notebook.

As he exited the alley, he pulled the cap low over his eyes, in case any of his pursuers were lingering. As he continued on, he heard no disturbances, so he gathered that he was no longer a wanted man. Disappeared, never to be found again. He walked for a good hour, taking his time and soaking up all the glorious filth and poverty the streets of New York had to offer. There was possibility in these streets! Life! He couldn't have been happier, given the circumstances.

Eventually, he reached a stoop that seemed to be more or less abandoned, that is to say, he didn't see anyone occupying it at the moment. It seemed to be the entrance to a tenement of some sort, no doubt housing many of his third-class comrades at that very moment. He settled in at the second-to-top step and took out his knife as well as the unsharpened pencil he'd happened upon before. He sharpened the wood quickly, pleased, finally, with the sharp point of granite that resulted. He then retrieved his notebook and flipped to the first fresh page. Just then, someone took a seat in front of him. He thought it was a woman by the way she moved, but her entire head and body were draped in blankets. When she reached for something in her pocket, he just briefly saw a hand – that of a woman's. As she turned her head slightly to light the cigarette she'd retrieved, he saw a glimpse of red hair. He thought nothing of it, knowing that the vast majority of New York's population was Irish. Plenty of redheads to go around. Slowly, he began tracing the outline of the woman's figure, making her his first subject on American soil for quite sometime. She smoked cigarette after cigarette, as if they were water and she'd been stranded in the desert. He smiled at the thought, knowing that he, too, would give anything for a cigarette. Once his drawing was finished, he tucked the notebook away in his knapsack and stood up, stretching his tired limbs. He winced slightly at the pain of his scabbed skin, but was pleased at the thought of his frostbite healing. He coughed once to clear his throat and then ascended the few steps so that he was standing just behind the seated woman. He cleared his throat once more and said,

"Excuse me, Miss. Wouldn't mind bummin' a man a cigarette would ya?"

The woman turned in response to the man's voice, but when their eyes met, both remained frozen. Her blue eyes stared back at his, their hands trembling at the site of one another.


	5. Chapter 5

**I would like to start off by thanking all of those who reviewed! Like I said, this is my very first published fanfiction, so any criticism or suggestions are more than welcome! (Thanks especially to CatsAreNice! I will definitely add in some more of their personal thoughts and definitely more dialogue now that they're together!) Please keep the reviews coming and be honest with your suggestions! I am, after all, writing for the reader so I want to make it as pleasurable as possible for each person who happens to stumble across my story. Thanks again!**

Chapter 5

As Rose turned in response to the voice that sounded behind her, she never expected to see what her eyes fell upon. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her eyes widened in shock, and her hands went in to a fit of tremors. It was like the whole world stood still. No one about them seemed to be moving. It was as if time itself were holding its breath.

As Rose looked in to his blue eyes, thoughts were racing wildly through her mind. _This can't be. His ghost. My sanity! God is playing an evil trick, dangling the mirage of him in front of me like this! _But then, he spoke, and all of her doubts that he was truly standing before her, in the flesh, vanished as quickly as they'd been racing through her head.

"Rose?"

His voice. Was she really hearing it again? Was it possible? Before this very moment she'd been struggling to quiet the demons within her mind, screaming at her constantly that her one true love had perished along with hundreds of others in the foundering of the "unsinkable ship"! Would those demons now be forever hushed? She stood slowly, unsure if her knees would buckle underneath her weight. She felt so weak. Shocked. Almost paralyzed. When first she tried to speak, her voice did not come out. It was just her parted lips, hanging there, waiting for sound to release itself. She closed her mouth and blinked, making certain that it wasn't just her mind playing tricks. Finally, she gathered the strength to speak.

"No."

Jack's brow furrowed. This was the last thing he'd been expecting to hear.

"No, Jack," she continued, "I w-watched you. I watched you sink until I couldn't see you anymore. I had to let you go! You wouldn't wake up, Jack."

As she said the last sentence, her voice began to crack as tears began brimming her pleading eyes.

"I had to let you go…" she repeated, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks, reddened now by the emotion that was welling up inside of her.

Without hesitation, Jack stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head as he gently swayed back and forth. He whispered sounds of comfort in her ear as her desperate fingers clutched on to the fabric of his jacket. She held fast to him, overwhelmed with emotion. Just imagine, being able to once again hold the one person you'd loved most! To Rose, it was as if her Jack had risen from the dead.

Still holding her in his strong embrace, Jack began to speak, his voice low and easy.

"I did wake up, Rose. I did. I'm here! Another boat came back for me – I was the only one still alive. It's our destiny, Rose. Even the circumstances of the universe can't keep us apart…"

His voice faded as he turned slightly to kiss her forehead. Rose sniffed once and leaned back to look at him, her features stained with tears. As she looked up at the man who'd rescued her from her previous life, a beaming smile came across her face. She gave that classic Rose laugh, short and breathy, and took his face gently in her hands.

"I know, Jack. I know. I love you…"

It was the first time one of them had said it. Those three words. But in this case, it wasn't pivotal or chance taking as it would have been for other lovers. Now, it was simply applying words to feelings – though even 'love' wasn't strong enough to describe their bond. In truth, it was otherworldly. A spectacle even for the two involved. But they knew they could never deny it, and so, they never would. They would simply strive for the future, making each day count.

Jack's brow was furrowed once more, but underneath his tensed brow was an expression of happiness. His eyes spoke what his words never be able to convey. He knew he loved her too, but to say it in return seemed futile. As his brow relaxed and his features birthed a beaming smile, he leaned forward and kissed Rose as passionately as if it were the last time they would ever kiss. He could feel the heat of her palms on his cheeks, and she could feel the strength of his body against her own. They were two lovers embraced, in a passion that no words could describe. It was magnetic, as if the sweltering sun above gave their love the energy it needed to flourish. And it did. It truly did.

**I didn't add many thoughts, or dialogue for that matter, in there, but I will definitely work on that more in the coming chapters. I hope you all like it! I hope to get through at least one, if not two more chapters by tonight! Thanks so much for reading, and review please! **


	6. Chapter 6

**I think you guys will be excited about this chapter, at least I hope so! A new character is introduced, and boy, is he going to be an interesting one! Stay tuned, this is going to turn in to one hell of a story!**

Chapter 6

As the lovers finally pulled slowly away from another, they were still shaking from the pleasure they'd waited so long to once more experience. Each kept their eyes closed for just one moment longer after their lips had parted, savoring the moments that had now become their recent past. Jack was the first to speak.

"We uh, we should find a room."

Rose looked up at him and peeled her eyes, a playful smirk on her face. She turned from him and began descending the few steps to the side walk, emitting that "first class air" she was so fiercely good at portraying.

"Well, Mr. Dawson, I'm afraid I'm just not that kind of girl. You're going to have to try harder to get me to bed…"

Before the words were out of her mouth, her serious expression was already starting to break. She burst in to quiet laughter. Jack laughed as well, throwing his knapsack over his shoulder and joining her on the side walk.

"Rose, I only meant we need to find a place to stay."

Rose nodded her head, "Of course," she laughed to herself once more and looked up at him questioningly. "And where do you suggest we stay?"

Just then, an elderly woman stepped out of the door of the tenement whose stoop they'd been previously occupying. She was flapping a rug in to the air, ridding it of the dust it had been collecting over past months time. When she saw Jack and Rose at the base of her steps, she stopped with the rug and looked at them.

"Lookin' for housin' are ya?"

Her accent was Irish, and at the end of her grey locks, a hint of red was noticeably intertwined – her original and natural color from younger years. Rose looked to Jack and then back at the woman. She cleared her throat and took Jack's hand in hers, leading him back up the stairs. As she ascended the steps toward the old woman, she gave her their answer.

"Yes, we need a room for three nights."

The woman looked at Rose and smiled,

"Well follow me, then. Can't have ya standin' out here all day can we?"

As they entered through the large, wooden doors, they were met with a very dim, dusty atmosphere. Jack looked around with an easy expression on his face, taking in his surroundings as if it were second nature, that soft smile on his face the entire time. Rose continued clasping on to his hand as she followed the woman to the desk. She looked about her with a feeling of intense curiosity. Never before had she been in such a place as this, and she found that her heart was beating with anticipation. Such excitement! There were gas lamps here and there, flickering with the dim flames that served as the only source of lighting throughout the establishment. There were no windows. Further, to her left, the room opened up in to a second room. A bar. There were men sitting at various tables smoking their pipes and cigarettes. Some of the tables were scattered around the lobby area, some just far enough in shadow that Rose couldn't make out the features of those occupying them. There was a violinist playing an upbeat and slightly off pitch Irish tune in the bar area, just out of her sight around a corner somewhere. There were also three or four women roaming about, their corsets loosely tied, their hair hanging freely about their red cheeks as they hung on the shoulders of their male pursuers.

Rose turned her attention to the old woman, now behind the desk, retrieving a book from underneath the countertop. As she sat it down upon the surface, a huge plume of dust flew up. The woman coughed once, as if her lungs were more than used to the constant presence of dust that seemed to overtake her surroundings. She routinely flipped open the book and said,

"Names please?"

Rose cleared her throat and replied,

"Jack and Rose Dawson."

She looked up to a questioning Jack with an _'I'll tell you later_' expression. He seemed to get the hint and stayed quiet. The woman penciled them in for three nights and without looking up said,

"That'll be $1.32, dearies."

Jack reached in to his pockets, but came up empty, realizing once more that he was completely broke. How could he be so stupid! He'd gotten Rose's hopes up at having a roof over her head. _'Well,'_ he thought, _'she might have to learn what it's like to sleep under a bridge for the time being.'_ But just as he was about to apologize to the old woman and usher Rose back into the streets, Rose reached in to her pocket and retrieved a five-dollar bill. Jack looked at her, astonished, but again, Rose gave him 'the look' and he knew he would find out later.

The woman smiled, took the bill, and made change for them. She then replaced the guest book in its proper place and walked from behind the desk, signaling for them to follow her to their room. She took them across the lobby in the direction of the bar. For the first time, Rose saw the staircase that was wedged just in between the two rooms. She was just about to turn to Jack and say something when another voice caught her attention.

"_Welcome to New York."_

The voice was low, but the man's accent was painfully New York, American. Old Northern. As if each vowel was stressed and drawn out. Noo Yooahk. She looked just to her left and saw a man just visible within the shadows. He was thin, with a black beard and mustache, its tips curled just slightly at the ends. He wore a top hat and a brilliant blue jacket, much too nice an article of clothing to be seen in a place like this. His pants were a rusty red color, plaid, very showy. This man was a character, Rose could gather that much, but why he cared to speak to her and Jack was beyond her comprehension. Rose simply nodded in acknowledgment and continued on her way. Jack, however, didn't feel as easy. He looked at the man with cautious eyes, though maintained the calm smile on his face. He muttered a 'thank you' as he passed, and they were off, up the stairs.

Jack and Rose settled in to their room, packing away what little they had. The old woman returned downstairs, smoothing her apron as she retrieved her broom from the cupboard. She began to sweep the lobby, humming an old Irish tune as she went, but as she neared the table hidden in the shadows the voice spoke out again.

"Say, Aideen, who was that girl you just took upstairs?"

The woman looked up from her sweeping and up the stairs, as if to jog her memory. and then back down, once more focused on the task at hand.

"Rose, I think she said, sir. Why'st ya ask?"

The man sucked his teeth, popping his knuckles, one by one on each hand.

"Oh, you know me, Aideen. Always keeping my eyes peeled for a dove among the crows."

At this, Aideen looked up from her sweeping and sent the man daggers with her eyes.

"You best be leavin' them alone, Mr. Christy. She's gotter' self a nice man, 'seems. Leave 'em be this time. Let one of 'em go, won't ya?"

The man in the shadows remained quiet, staring at the woman through the darkness. She stood there, hunched over her broom, her eyes absolutely unmoving from his gaze. It was if she were paralyzed by his stare. Slowly, the man stood from his chair and dropped a silver dollar on to the table. He was thin, tall and lankey. The heels of his shoes echoed on the hardwood as he made his way over to the spot where the old woman was standing. As he passed, he bent down to her ear and whispered,

"If I were you, I'd watch my tongue for fear of losin' it the next time."

Again he sucked his teeth, his eyes expressing the smile that slowly grew on his lips. He strolled toward the door and pushed it open, but before he left, he spoke one last time.

"I'll see ya next week, Aideen." His tone was just as cheerful as Christmas morning.

The old lady collapsed in tears on the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Just so you all know, I will be changing the summary of this story since I'm taking it much further than Rose and Jack simply meeting again after the sinking. Please let me know what you think of my latest chapters! Thanks!**

Chapter 7

Days passed, nights drug on, but there was a sort of peace in the air. Both Jack and Rose felt it all around them, the sense of happiness that only two lovers can know. They were endlessly happy, and needed only one another to keep moving forward. After their three-night fee was up, they decided to stay on at the tenement. Aideen Henessey was a kind, caring woman and treated all of the guests at her tenement as if they were family. Rose and Jack's days were spent exploring the poverty-ridden streets of New York, while their nights were spent in a lovers' embrace. They were hopeless for one another, and would remain so until the end of time. During their first night in New York, Rose had shown the money she'd discovered to a disbelieving Jack. They were set for a year, that is if they let themselves live large. They were set for many, many years if they resorted to spending wisely. Jack had never known such financial safety in all his life, and was overwhelmed by the prospect of it. But, they were happy, and that was all that mattered to them.

One night, exactly one week after they'd arrived in New York, the two decided to go down to the tenement tavern and mingle with the other residents. They also fancied a drink, and knew there would be plenty of that to go around as well. As they descended the stairs, they could already hear the sounds of the violinist playing, smell the aroma of whiskey and cigar smoke, and hear the cheerful laughter of those already partaking in their own bar-related activities. Rose was the first to approach the bar, followed closely by Jack. She held up a hand to signal the bartender, and spoke,

"We'll take two beers to start."

She laid the appropriate amount of cash on the table and took the glass mugs frothing with their cold beer. She handed Jack his mug and held up her class.

"To making it count," she said with a smile.

Jack smiled in return and clanged his glass against hers, taking a large gulp.

All about them were people of third class. Some of the mates who'd already been at the joint a while longer than the rest were already ossified and were in somewhat of a comatose state as they struggled to keep their eyes open. Jack held Rose close, more out of affection than protection, but all the same, he had his eyes peeled for trouble. Always. There was also an unusual amount of, well, less than classy women roaming about as well. Prostitutes. Some of them were very drunk as well, but most of them walked from man to man, keeping their options open as they waited for the ideal business opportunity to come their way.

Rose watched all of this with keen eyes, surveying each person as they went about their business. Her eyes swept over the whole establishment until, finally, they settled on a person she was rather startled to see. And he was looking back at her. It was the same man who had spoken to her when she and Jack had checked in. _'Welcome to New York'_. She felt a chill run up her spine as she thought of his voice. She looked away quickly and took a sip from her glass. Instinctively, she grabbed Jack's hand, wanting anyone who was curious to know that she was his, and was unwavering. Suddenly, she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Oi! Well look whose come down to visit with us tonight! You two look dapper s'ever!"

Rose smiled as Aideen approached them, smiling her weathered, warm smile as she always did.

"Hello, Mrs. Henessey. How are you this evening?"

Aideen nodded and said,

"Well, m'dear, truth be told I'm gettin' tired. Always lookin' out for touble and kickin' those out who cause it. Get's tirin', y'know…"

Jack laughed and said,

"I'm sure you give 'em hell, Aideen. Besides," he looked around the tavern and then back to the old woman, "doesn't seem to be much trouble tonight."

Aideen chuckled and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, pulling him a bit closer.

"That's what you're thinkin', boy. But the Boss is in the house tonight. There'll be somethin' stirrin', I assure ya."

Jack took a sip from his mug and furrowed his brow.

"Boss? I thought you were the boss, Aideen."

The old woman just looked at Jack, her tone cautious and low,

"No, no, no. Chisler Christy. He runs these streets, boy. And don't you never forget it."

Rose looked up at Jack, knowing before the old woman explained further just whom this Chisler Christy character was. He was the voice. Jack smiled uneasily, placing his hand on Rose's shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze, letting her know that he was there, and that she was safe. Jack knew about these gangster types, the ones who controlled the small guys. They could be brutal, certainly, but Jack knew from experience that if you stayed out of their way, then they would have no reason to be a bother – that is, unless you had something that they wanted.

Aideen leaned in close once more, her expression even more cautious than before. When she spoke, her voice was even lower, just loud enough for Rose and Jack to hear her.

"I'd take particular care if I were you two. Christy's got 'emself a bad taste in his mouth when it comes to new folks. Just be careful, ya hear?"

Both Rose and Jack nodded, understanding the seriousness of Aideen's words. They watched as Aideen turned and walked away from them, disappearing somewhere that no customers were allowed to go. Rose looked at Jack, fear dancing in her blue eyes.

"Jack, he's the one who spoke to us. That night we came here. I've seen him here already tonight, and when I caught his eye, he was looking right back at me. Jack…"

He stopped her, holding her close to his chest as he spoke.

"Don't worry, Rose. If we're no bother to him, he can't be a bother to us. Just try to stay out of his path, alright?"

Rose nodded silently, looking back up to Jack's eyes once more. He smiled gently and said,

"C'mon. We came here to enjoy ourselves, so let's do it."

Rose nodded and let out a laugh.

"Yes, let's."

She raised her glass to Jack's once more, toasting silently to their own happiness. They each put their glasses to their mouths and began drinking, seeing which one would give up first. Finally, Jack gave in. Rose smiled and raised a brow.

"I told you a first class girl could drink."

He simply laughed and kissed her forehead.

The night went on like that for hours. Everyone was merry and in good spirits. There was only one brawl to speak of, and both men were considerably under the influence and were eventually thrown out in the cold. Jack and Rose even managed to make some new acquaintances. There was Helena Stern from Poland; a sweet girl with a soft disposition, but ready to drink and have a good time as much as the next person. Then there was William McKinley from Virginia; moved North in search of factory jobs. He was a kind boy with a southern way. A gentleman through and through but alive with the prospect of adventure. And finally, there was Bobby Flannihan, from Ireland. Straight off the boat. He'd arrived just one week before Jack and Rose, also, like William, in search of labor. Bobby was loud, course, and loved a drink more than any man Jack had ever met. He was an Irishman, right down to his bones. The five of them drank and laughed all night, even until the bar began thinning out as people retired to their rooms for the evening. Eventually, Helena, Bobby, and William retired as well, bidding Jack and Rose adieu until the following evening. And then, the couple was alone. Or so they thought.

They sat at the bar, drunk and happy, laughing hysterically at one another's words, ecstatic to simply be in one another's presence.

Jack was the first to hear it, the echo of His shoes on the hardwood floor. He looked behind his shoulder and saw him approaching, and soon after, Rose did too. The two fell silent as Christy stood before them, unsure what to expect from Him.

Christy stood with his weight on one leg, arms crossed, a smile dancing in his eyes and on his lips. Rose tried to act calm, but could feel her heart racing just at the sight of him. Christy spit once, and then straightened his posture once more, holding his hand out to Jack as he finally spoke,

"_Welcome to New York_. The name's Christy."

His New York accent rang out in the near-silent tavern. His smiling eyes hiding other, subtler emotions. Jack took the man's hand in his and shook it firmly.

"Jack, Jack Dawson. Pleased to meet ya."

Then Christy turned his attentions to Rose.

"And who, my dear, might you be?"

Rose held out her hand slowly, but spoke with conviction, determined not to let her emotions get the better of her.

"Rose Dawson. Pleasure."

Christy took her hand in his and kissed the top, lingering just a moment longer than was necessary.

"The pleasure is mine." He sucked his teeth, and let her hand go. "I'm welcoming you to New York. This wasteland of eternal possibility." He held his arms out wide as he spoke, as if to create the image of New York in the span of his breadth. "I'm sure that, by now, you've made yourselves quite comfortable in my city and hope to God it stays that way."

Rose cleared her throat and said, "Excuse me, sir, but _your city_?"

The man looked to Rose, fire in his eyes, but maintained that same over-joyous, almost menacing smile on his face.

"That's right, my dear. _Mine_. Everybody owes, everybody pays. You _want_ something? You ask me first. You _need _something? You ask me first. You leave, I know about it. You die? Well, depending on if you're on my good or bad side dictates whether or not I had anything to do with it."

He smiled more widely than he had before, his yellow teeth visible through his black beard. Rose just nodded, laughing uncertainly.

"Well, sir. I hope to stay on your good side then."

Jack looked at her sideways, unsure of the meaning behind this conversation and where exactly it was going. He waited a moment, and cleared his throat, thinking it better to stop the conversation before either himself or Rose said something they might regret later.

"Well, Mr. Christy. It was a pleasure meeting you, but I'm afraid we'd better be getting back to our room."

Christy nodded and stepped back, waving his hand for them to pass before him.

Jack helped Rose down from her stool, steadying her on her swaying feat. He took her hand in his own and prepared to lead her up the stairs. Rose looked to Christy once more and said,

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Christy."

His eyes sparked with fire, unmoving from hers.

"Oh no, my girl. The pleasure, as I said, is all mine."

With that, the two proceeded cautiously toward the stairs, clutching one another's hands. As they neared the middle of the staircase, they heard His voice once more. They both stopped, frozen.

"Don't wander too far, you two. I'll be wanting to see both of yous again. _Soon_."

They listened, unmoving, as his footsteps moved toward the door, and disappeared. Silently, they looked at one another, words unable to express the fear that ran rampant throughout their bodies.

**Chisler Christy is very much inspired by William "Bill the Butcher" Cutting from Gangs of New York (another one of my favorites!). I even borrowed the "everybody owes, everybody pays" line. Hope you're all liking it so far. Stay tuned for more!**


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter doesn't take us too far in the story, but it IS essential to where the story will go. Enjoy!**

Chapter 8

That night, neither Jack nor Rose slept a wink. They tossed and turned, their thoughts racing. When the dawn finally came, sunlight peering in through their small – and only – window, they turned to look at one another. Rose reached for Jack's hand and held it close to her breast, looking for solace in his eyes.

"Sleep okay?" he asked.

Rose nodded. "Fine." It was a bold faced lie. She'd never lied to Jack before, but the last thing she wanted was for him to worry.

He nodded in return and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. When he pulled back to look in her eyes once more, he smiled and said,

"You hungry? I can go out and get us something, if you want."

Again, she nodded and sat up. "Yes, that'd be nice."

She stretched gingerly, yawning from her lack of sleep, and walked to the window, retrieving a single cigarette from the vanity as she went. As she began to puff away, Jack began to dress, readying himself for the market. He dressed quickly, not worrying much about his appearance (as always), and walked over to Rose, placing his hand on her cheek. He could tell she was nervous. Her eyes gave her away. In truth, he was nervous too, but could see no reason why they'd see any trouble from this Christy fellow. After all, they had done absolutely nothing to anybody.

"It's alright, Rose. I promise. Do you trust me?"

When she heard his words, her eyes snapped from the window and looked directly in to his. She would always trust him, and that phrase alone seemed always to lend her the comfort she needed most.

"I trust you." She said, and kissed him goodbye.

As Jack closed the door behind him and began to walk down the hall, he heard his name yelled from behind him.

"Oi, Jack!"

He turned in the direction of the voice and saw Bobby Flannihan running to catch up.

"Mornin' Bobby."

"Same to you. Say, you gonna be downstairs tonight? I just now talked to Helena and she said she and William were thinkin' 'bout goin'. You and Rose should come join us. We'll have ourselves a good ol' time."

Bobby was grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of a drunken, joyous night. Jack smiled too and nodded his head.

"Yeah Bobby, yeah. We'll come down."

Bobby's grin slowly faded at the lack of enthusiasm in Jack's answer. He looked at him sideways and said,

"Ay Jack, you sure ever'tings good?"

Jack paused for a moment, his brow furrowed. He then looked at Bobby and asked,

"Bobby do you know anything about this Chisler Christy?"

At the sound of the name, Bobby's expression became noticeably tense.

"Sure I know about him. Why'st ya ask?"

Jack sighed but continued,

"Well, last night when everyone sort of left, me and Rose were alone at the bar. Well, we thought we were alone–"

Jack looked up at Bobby whose expression was growing more and more concerned by the minute.

"Christy came up to us," Jack continued, "He introduced himself and started going on about how New York was _his_ city. '_Everybody owes, everybody pays_'. Me and Rose finally excused ourselves, but when we were walkin' up the stairs, he spoke to us again. He said not to go anywhere – that he'd be wanting to see us again soon. He emphasized '_soon'_. Rose is worried, I can tell. What do you think he meant by all that?"

Bobby's expression had turned from tense to somber. Almost as if he were looking at Jack in sympathy. He looked as if he didn't want to answer Jack, or rather, that he was afraid of giving Jack the answer he didn't want to hear. Bobby looked down at the ground, and then returned his gaze to Jack's.

"Did you see all those girls at the bar last night, Jack?"

Jack nodded and said,

"Yeah there was Rose and Helena, I saw a few others there with–"

Bobby shook his head, cutting Jack off.

"No, not those girls. The other ones."

Jack realized that Bobby was referring to the prostitutes roaming about, and nodded.

"They all belong to Christy. They all answer to 'im."

Jack nodded, signaling he understood, but he was still confused.

"But what's that got to do with me and Rose?"

Bobby sighed, and continued,

"Christy likes to collect his girls. 'Specially when he sees one he likes. I've only been here a week longer than you have, Jack, but I've gotten out more. You're not workin'. You're not in the streets with the boys like me. I hear things around. Christy knows me already. Though he hasn't come to collect from me yet…"

Jack furrowed his brow and looked to Bobby in question.

"Collect?"

"You see, Jack, Christy wasn't foolin' when he told you everybody owes, and pays. We all gotta give 'im a cut of our income. It's the price we pay for stayin' out of his way."

Jack just nodded, taking in all this information. He realized the significance about what Bobby had told him. Rose might have a bounty on her head, but Christy couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't just take her. Jack sure as well wouldn't let him do that. But he was still concerned.

"So what should I do, Bobby? If Christy's taken a liking to Rose, I mean?"

Bobby shrugged and replied,

"Best I can tell ya is just to stay out of his way, but I guess you already figured that much."

Bobby smiled and put his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Don't worry too much, boyle. He can't very well just snatch 'er up, can he? Just pay yer dues when he comes and stay outta trouble. All' be well."

Jack smiled and nodded, sure that what Bobby said was true. But he could still feel something boiling beneath the surface. Something bad was brewing, and Jack knew it.


End file.
